


Doctor Who RPF - Hold my Hand

by Samstown4077



Series: You/real person - You/fictional character [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Comfort fic, Comforting through Character because of Angst of various things, F/M, Gen, No Romance, Personalized Fic, here because of needles, nothing graphical, only mentioned - Freeform, possible trigger, tw: needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:33:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Samstown4077
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic for readers searching comfort through a fictional / real person character. In this fic, Peter comforts the reader/you because of angst/panic of needles. It plays in an unknown place (probably hospital) in a waiting room and a breakroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who RPF - Hold my Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing graphical about the named trigger. Pure comfort, friendship.  
> This is RPF, and pure fictional. My native is not English, thanks for reading it anyway.  
> A user on tumblr had asked for someone who could write a fic with their favourite fictional character / favourite actor, to comfort them in a upcoming unpleasant situation.

There is one thing you hate. You really, really hate… maybe aside a few other things, but _this_ you really hate. More you fear it. With all you are.

You’re not a coward! No, no. You are actually very brave, facing life and responsibilities every day. No, you everything but a coward. You are one of the smart ones. With wits and cleverness.

It’s just this one thing, and of course the waiting. The waiting is sometimes the more frightening thing about all this.

The room, that seems smaller on the inside, that sometimes narrows down to the seat you are sitting in while you knead your hands in anticipation. The atmosphere. Nice pictures at the wall, the goldfish bowl on the counter - it shall make people relax (you can only shake your head over this) - the people constantly smiling their empty smiles. It is horrible. Because you sit there all alone and you have to wait and you know you have waited the day before, in the safety of your home, you have made your thoughts about what would come. You have played out some nasty fantasies what could go wrong and you have thought about the past times and it made your stomache ache and your forehead sweat.

You want to jump up and run away. Tell them to _“fuck off!”_ with their shitty needles and there useless blood tests. Sure there is a reason and it makes sense doing them, but not right now, not in this situation when all your anxieties concentrate on this one point inside of you. Your heart is racing so rapidly, you fear it will jump out of your ribcage any second - it runs, while you sit here, your fingers clawing to the armrest till your knuckles are all white. Your face is a stern, stonehard expression. You want to be everywhere but here. _Everywhere_.

“You’re alright?” A deep male voice and prominent accent reaches out for you, smooth and also a bit rasp. You are so into your mind cage, he has to repeat his question. “Hey, are you alright?”

You turn your head to the left. There is a man way older than you, with grey curls and a five o’clock shade in his face. There is worry in his eyes, but mainly he smiles at you, genuine and open - maybe the only true smile you’ll ever find in this room. You blink a few times, taking in his greenish, blueish eyes - you can’t decide on the colour yet.

Usually you would say that you are alright and hope the person would leave you alone but there is something in him, that makes you say, “I am afraid, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” he repeats. “That’s a lot, isn’t it?”

It confuses you, that he seems to take note about you and your anxiety. “I don’t know.” You are not able to form coherent sentences.

“I hate them too,” he whispers, leaning in a bit more, as if it is a secret, between you and him now.

You eye him from tip to toe, he doesn’t look like someone who is afraid of needles, “You don’t look like it.”

He smirks forgivingly at you, you guess he hasn’t heard that the first time, “Our anxieties are not written on our foreheads - luckily.”

“Luckily,” you say. “I hate everything about it. I had some bad experience, you must know.”

“What’s your name?”

You hesitate for a moment, in the end he is a stranger, but there is this smile again and you give in, and tell him your name.

“Nice meeting you,” he holds out his hand to you and you take it. He has long fingers and his hand is warm and soft and the way he presses your palm is reassuring and makes you relax a little. “I am Peter.”

“Hi, Peter.”

A door goes open and you almost jump up with a squeal, so full of anticipation are you. Someone else has to come up, so you can calm down a little. You knead your hands again and then you feel something warm on your arm.

Peter has placed his hand on your forearm, “Wanna run?”

“What?”

“Run?” he smirks with a twitch of his eyebrows. “Let’s run. Grab a coffee or tea.”

You are baffled by his idea, aside all your anxieties you feel obliged to sit here and wait. Like a lamb waiting for the slaughter. “But,...” you start but he tilts his head as he wants to ask you something like _‘really?’_ and so you decide to take the offer. “Let’s go?”

He stands up and waves you with him, the needles have to wait now - you have waited long enough.

You find something like a break room with a vending machine in it. The room has a large window and the sun shines in, you go to the window and look outside. A park is outside and you can hear kids play and some birds. You wish you could join them.

Peter gets the drinks from the vending machine and holds out a plastic cup to you, you take it with a nod.

“You are very nice,” you sip from your drink. “Most people here are always so busy and indifferent.”

“So you are here more often?” he asks, coming to your side, leaning against the window sill, warming his hands at the hot cup.

“One could say that, yes,” you turn around, your back against the sill too. “This waiting and the needles, it scares the shit out of me,” when you realize that you have sworn you quickly utter some excuses.

“You can swear,” he smirks. “I think it is actually law. One must swear at things they are scared of.”

“Yeah?” it makes you chuckle a bit. “At what do you swear?”

“Where I live, there is a big supermarket and they have this guy, who walks around in this bunny costume all day long - it’s like a mascot and one day I walk around the corner and this thing is in front of me, we actually collide and _fuck sake_ I can tell you,” he leans in again. “I was so scared at this moment I sweared for about five minutes at the man.”

“You are scared of a bunny?” you look at him, all doubt over your face. “You just say that to make me feel better or something.”

“Do I?”

“Think so, yes,” you not admitting it, but you feel a bit better after this ridiculous story. “Nobody is scared because of a bunny.”

“It was a life size bunny,” his hands whirl around in the air, trying to give you an idea of what “life size” is in his opinion. “And a fucking ugly one too. So yes, you can be afraid of a bunny.”

You think about it, and decide, you not going to judge him. A moment of silence falls over you both and you drink your cup empty, musing how to avoid what would come soon.

“I want to run,” you then say. “I am so fucking scared. Look!” You hold out your hand and it shakes slightly. You feel your heart again, hammering against your chest - you are a mess.

“Close your eyes,” his voice is now low again. A sweet deep Scottish baritone. “Don’t worry, close your eyes.”

You huff loudly as if in protest, but you oblige, your hand still slightly outstretched.

“I can’t go with you,” he begins, his voice now close to your ear, “but when you are in there, I want you, to close your eyes.”

“But-”

“I want you to close your eyes and then try to remember.”

“Try to remember what?”

“How it is, to hold my hand.”

“How shall I know this?” you ask, and you want to open your eyes again, but he stops you.

“It feels exactly like… this,” his hand reaches out for yours and his long fingers embrace your hand in a firm, reassuring grip. Your hand is cold and his is warm and it feels like heaven to you. Warmth spreads through your veins, heat rushing down into your feet and up into your ears, it’s like diving into a pool of warm water. The back of your neck, the many fine hairs there, are prickling.

You entwine your fingers around his, holding on to him. Your tiny hand fits perfectly in his and he presses your palm with his thumb for a moment to tell you it is okay, that you can hold on as long as you want.

With your fingertips you can feel his bones and tendons that span over the back of his hand, the skin is not rough but it is the feel of a male hand. A strong hand but so very gently.

Your eyes still closed, you in- and exhale a few times, you slowly relax into his touch into the moment - pushing away your anxieties for a bit. You forget the place you are, you stop hearing all what surrounds you, it’s now only you and him. Your breathing and his whisper of encouragement and reassurance.

“You are safe now,” he talks in a whisper. “Remember holding my hand, and you are safe.”

The moment will go by, but you will remember, you will remember holding his hand and you will remember the feel of safety. The warmth of his skin and the slight scent of his odour in the air. It will not take you out of there, it will not beware you from what will come, but it will make you face it maybe a bit easier. Give you halt and a place in your mind to go.

Close your eyes, breath in and out and _remember_.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked that fic or it comforted you, I would be pleased when you leave a kudo or a comment.  
> I think about writing stuff like that on request, without publishing everything. If you are interested you can drop me a massage on my tumblr (Colepaldi-in-the-tardis) for further informations and requests.


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